Breathe
by ZanderXX
Summary: After the war, Hermione understands that life holds no guarantees. One-shot. H/Hr


_**I thought about this the other day. Hope you like it!**_

_****__**I do not own Harry Potter or any of its character. They belong to the wonderful J.K Rowling!**_

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_Breathe_

Hermione woke up at the sound of approaching footsteps. She felt her body complaining while she tried to sit up, her eyelids opening slowly, her head aching as if someone had just punched her hard in the face. She felt tired, but was feeling lighter anyways, as if a huge weigth had been taken off of her shoulders.

She instantly recalled everything that had happened hours ago, or maybe days; she was not completely sure how much time had gone by since she had passed out. And she couldn't hold back the sigh of relieve once she understood everything was over; war was over, Voldemort was now gone. But then again, many people was gone too, people she loved and cared about. Like Fred; one of the Wesleys twins was dead. Or Remus and Tonks; now their son would grow up with no parents, just like-

"Hermione?" she heard his voice whispering her name, and let out another sigh of relife when she opened her eyes completely and saw him there, standing by her bed, holding her hand and stroking tenderly her slender fingers.

"Harry!" She had watched as Hagrid carried his body from the Forbidden Forest, his _dead_ body; but there he was, The Boy Who Lived had survived once again. Hermione gripped his hand tightly, his incredibly cold hand, as if making sure he would never let go. And as she thought once more about his dead form over Hagrid's arms, she could not stop the sob that escaped her lips. "You were dead, Harry! You promised me you wouldn't go! You promised!"

The sobs were taking more and more of the air in her lungs, as she desperately tried to inhale and exhale normally. While Harry embraced her, she clanged to his shirt and buried her crying face on his chest, afraid to lose him again.

"I know I did, 'Mione, but I'm not sorry," Harry said quietly, embracing her, drawing small circles in her back. But something felt wrong, terribly wrong, as she lo longer could feel his warmth or smell his sent. "What I did, I did for you, so you can live the life you wish for, the life you deserve."

"Harry," she tried to speak, but the sobs were still winning, to the point in which she couldn't breathe properly anymore.

"Breathe, 'Mione, breathe," Harry whispered, stroking her hair, while she cried and let everything out.

She remembered then, all they had been through and what they had lost on the way, people and moments that would never come back, but which she would treasure for the rest of her life, as a scar that she could not get rid of even if he wanted. As the scar of the man she loved, the lightning-shaped scar. What both had lived before war was over had not been in vain, and neither was worth crumble now that all was just well.

So she finally calmed down, and breathed normally again, the air flowing through her lungs and body.

"What would I do without you?" she said in between sniffs.

She felt how Harry stopped stroking her hair for a moment and sighed heavily, before resting a cold kiss in the top of her head. He bent down and looked at her straight in the eye, where she saw it. She saw everything there, inside his lifeless eyes, his green eyes that used to be so dazzling and would sparkle whenever he stared at her, were now dull; they said everything she needed to know, and had trusted her with the thing she feared the most.

"You'll breathe, 'Mione, you'll breathe."

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Hermione woke up craving for fresh air, her lungs almost drying and her eyes wide open while tears streamed down her face. But no matter how much she tried or how strongly she fought, Hermione could not make the air enter her body; she felt helpless, as if she was drowning and there was nothing she could do to stop it from happening. She tightened her grip in the sheets, her nails digging deep into the white fabric, as her sight blurred and her mouth opened and closed searching desperately for air.

As she felt her body becoming weaker, she sensed someone sitting by her side on the bed, and taking her hands in his warm ones.

That dream had been so real, she had watched him die for the thousandth time and the scene kept involuntary playing over and over again inside her head. But once more, he was right by her side, ready to comfort her.

"Hermione," he said calmly, but it sounded so distant she could hardly understand his words. "Hermione, breathe…" he repeated, and this time Hermione heard his voice perfectly, acknowledging the painful truth.

That was not _his_ voice.

And so again, her lungs closed up, trying to finally end her, to finish what she so desperately craved for: the imminent but peaceful death. She certainly wanted to live no more, not without him. Not without seeing his face nor getting lost in his beautiful green eyes; not without running her fingers through his raven hair, nor without listening to his deep voice calling her name. She couldn't _breathe_ without him, how was she supposed to live if he was no longer by her side?

"Hermione," Ron was almost begging now, pleading for her to open her eyes and listen to him. Ron, who had stayed by her side, not trying to replace _him_, but being her anchor, her brother, the best friend he had always been, the one who would at all times try to assure her that everything would be okay. "I know, 'Mione, I know."

Of course he knew, he understood; he had lost Harry too.

After long minutes, in which Ron held her against his chest, in which Hermione tried to calm the tears down, she spoke in between sobs, her voice creaking, "How are we going to live without him, Ron? I can't... _I can't!_ What are we going to do?"

The tears began falling again once the realization hit her for the thousandth time.

There was no more Harry Potter.

Her best friend, lover, soulmate, whatever; he was dead.

_Harry_ was dead.

Silenced by her own sobs, she could barely hear Ron's silent ones. She felt his lips over her forehead, the warmth of his kiss reassuring him that he was still alive, and the sincerity of his words reassuring her one more time that they could get through it, and that with time everything would be okay.

"We'll breathe, 'Mione, we'll breathe."

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_**Please leave a review!**_

_**Thank you for reading!**_

_**-J**_


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